A Tale of Three Cities

Well maybe tale is a bit of an overstatement, but account just doesn't seem to have that Dickensian flow.

So I managed to squeeze in visits to three new cities this past week. Last Thursday I headed down the road a bit to Leicester (the "ice" is silent) and Cheltenham and Gloucester (not to be confused with Cheltenham & Gloucester - the mortgage agency).

Leicester is only about forty-five minutes south of Nottingham. I was a bit ashamed of myself for not visiting sooner. That's about like living in Moose Jaw and never going to Regina. The return ticket was a measly £4 and the weather was decent so off I went.

When I arrived I just kind of wandered aimlessly around. It's nice to do that in a strange place. Part of me wanted to head to the tourism office to grab a City Centre map, but I was content to just explore on my own. There were maps on large kiosks on the main streets so I got a quick glimpse of where I was heading. Leicester is quite a nice city, despite what people in Nottingham might say (there are rivalries between all neighbouring cities in England. Methinks it has to do with football-instilled civic pride).

Before long I stumbled upon the market. It was unlike any I've seen thus far. The ground level was open to the street but covered. There were fruit and veg carts for an entire city block, clothing and accessories, pet food and toys, etc., etc. Up a level inside there was a fish and meat market. Up one more there were fabrics and carpets, and a cafe topped off the complex.

I also saw the largest war memorial I've seen outside of Ottawa and just up the road the oldest building remnants that I have seen thus far. Before that though, I took a stroll through Castle Gardens, the site of what used to be Leicester Castle. All that remains is a mound where the lookout was. There are some modest steps up to the top and a nice view of city below. Further up the path is a plaque beside the River Soar that demarcates the final resting place of King Richard III, as it is belived his remains were disentombed and dumped into the river near that spot. Today, across the river, there is an empty parking lot that offers low cost car washing. Oh how far we've come!

Along one of the A Roads, there is a pit that contains the Jewry Wall, the remnants of an ancient Roman bath that dates back to the Second Century. It is quite clear where each of the rooms once stood. Along the back there is a massive stone and brick wall with three large arches. It is now supported by a horizontal member connected to the neighbouring St. Nicholas Church. This, as stated above, is the oldest piece of architecture I have yet seen.

Back in Nottingham I started to hear the murmur of the Cheltenham Festival and became intrigued. I decided that since I again had a Thursday off, I would venture out that way to see what it was all about. The Cheltenham Festival is an annual horse racing event where people go to make and lose a lot of money. A lot of British High and Low Society make appearances. This year the papers were abuzz with the drab garb of Kate Middleton, Prince William's (expected) future wife. Wills just wore a boring sweater and jacket of course, but nobody batted an eye about that.

The town is only about two hours by train. The station was crowded with snazzily dressed people queueing for the shuttle service to the racecourse. I wasn't interested in that at the moment. First a bit of pedestrian exploration. The station is linked to the Town Centre via a mile-long park. The weather was clearing and it was a great day for a stroll. Every once in a while a pair of suits would walk by dragging their suitcase-on-wheels. Then there would be a local walking a dog.

When I came upon the Town Centre, the things I had read about it being the largest collection of Regency architecture was becoming apparent. Oddly enough it all looked a lot like Regent Street in London. It looked like some kind of weird child of Ancient Greece and New Orleans. Very posh, yet somehow accessible. There were a lot of people in suits and dresses. Many of the betting places had red carpets, balloon arches, and women dressed as jockies handing out flyers.

I stopped at a greasy spoon for some late day breakfast and then decided to head toward the racecourse, to see where all the action was. I had absolutely no plans to pay money to go into the festival. I just wanted to view it from outside. I wasn't too sure how close I could get before I would be shooed away. With a five o'clock shadow, earring and backpack, I wasn't exactly fitting in with this crowd.

Along the way I walked through a park with a little lake and a couple stone bridges. At the top of the park was the Pittville Pumphouse, the original spa in the town, which gave the town its full name of Cheltenham Spa. The building is now used as a conference centre.

Not far from there was the racecourse. With the blimp flying overhead, a sea of coaches and city busses, and a myriad workers in the ubiquitous yellow reflector jackets, I knew I had arrived at the centre of the action. I'm sure I looked suspicious and was probably earmarked by a yellow jacket at some point, though I was never told by anyone that I couldn't be there.

Nearing the stand I could see the course below, and the hordes of people in the bleachers. The fashions got more pronounced the closer I got. Pinstriped suits and women with ridiculously oversized hats. Horse racing still has the kind of popularity here that it did in North America in early Twentieth Century. I felt like I was in some kind of 3D Hitchcock or Kubrick movie. Some scalpers tried to sell me some tickets for a mere £95. No thanks.

I headed back toward town and decided to pay £4 for a round trip to neighbouring Gloucester (the "uce" is silent), the county town of the shire. All I knew of Gloucester was its cathedral, though I needed to be reminded by the woman at the tourism office. I had remembered reading all about it on Allan's site. This is where much of the Harry Potter movies were filmed.

Gloucester was not nearly as posh as Cheltenham. The people seemed more like the regular English mix. It wasn't hard to find the cathedral. It is massive. The bells were ringing for Evensong, so I wasn't sure if I would be able to go in. Luckily I was, and was lucky enough to catch some of the amazing choir sounds. The space made my jaw drop when I entered. It was incredibly huge, and the sound was unbelievable. For the moment it did not feel like the Twenty-First Century. I spent some time in the large empty entrance hall listening to the organ and choir in the main chapel beyond before heading back out into the town. Unfortunately I was too late to visit the cloisters, but I think it would be worth heading back down that way some day to spend some more time getting a proper look at the place.

Outside it was getting dark, and I decided to head back to Cheltenham to observe how the sophisticated public were behaving in the streets. I knew I was in England when I saw a group of yellow-clad coppers, donned in their own ridiculously oversized hats barrelling down the pedestrian streets towards a pub where a brawl was happening. When I passed by I saw about twenty constables standing between the two fighters. One of the fighters had a bloody face. It's amazing how the Upper Class Twit of the Year can turn himself into a peasant when he gets a few pints of ale in him.

St. Patrick's Day usually falls within the frame of the Festival and because of that there is a huge Irish interest in the festivities. Irish accents abound in the streets and every pub seems to have a shamrock pictured somewhere. This was Thursday night, the Ides of March, a full two days before the big day and there was already drunken mayhem in the streets. I can't imagine what it will be like on the day itself. And of course this was only 8:00pm.

I headed back on the last train to Nottingham. Naturally so did a bunch of well-dressed drunkards, who before long were standing on the tables singing "You've Lost That Loving Feeling." Almost all of them got off at Birmingham, leaving me an hour of peace.

What's next? Perhaps Sheffield. I've got my eyes open for cheap tickets. The more places I can see before the European trek the better but I gotta keep the pursestrings tight.

Cheers.